


Coffee Run

by Machancheese



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [9]
Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Bad Things Happen Bingo, Gen, I dont know what else to tag but these are starting to make it sound worse than it is soooooo, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Intubation, Kidnapped, Stabbing, Vomiting, conscious intubation, self extubation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:20:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24345646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Machancheese/pseuds/Machancheese
Summary: Malcolm gets kidnapped, and the kidnapper likes to be in control of everything, including Malcolm's breathing.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo & Malcolm Bright, Malcolm Bright & Dani Powell, Malcolm Bright & JT Tarmel, Malcolm Bright & Jessica Whitly
Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1666942
Comments: 10
Kudos: 69





	Coffee Run

Malcolm knocked on Gil’s door, entering before he could reply.

“Hey Gil, I’m going on a coffee shop run. Do you want anything?”

“Kid, I appreciate the fact that you knocked, but maybe next time wait for me to give you the all clear.” Gil sighed. “And I'll take the usual bagel and coffee, thank you.” 

“Will do, and hey at least I’m improving.” Malcolm chuckled, closing the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was an extra sunny morning in New York and Malcolm was getting a little antsy, so he took a coffee run as an excuse to get out for a bit. The coffee shop was a little busier than normal, and the majority of the people had smiles on their faces.

Malcolm ordered the team’s requests, balancing the tray of drinks in one hand and the bag of food in the other. He pushed the door open right as a body slammed into it, sending the scolding hot drinks all over Malcolm. He let out a hiss in pain as somebody rambled out apologizes. The man leaned down picking up the emptied cups, throwing them in a nearby trash can, while Malcolm picked up the bag of food making sure everything was still good. The team would just have to deal with the break room’s coffee. 

Malcolm started to walk away, but the man ran after him. “Wait! Sir I can buy you some more if you would like, or let me pay for your dry cleaning bill for the suit.” 

“No it’s fine really, that won’t be necessary.” Malcolm insisted, still walking away from the man. His good vibes from earlier were gone. All he wanted was to get back to the precinct and get cleaned up.

The man shoved him into an alleyway he had been about to pass. Malcolm was about to yell for help from the oblivious people on the street, but when he went to, a rag was shoved over his mouth and nose. He recognized the sweet scent and immediately held his breath. Malcolm tried to fight back, but the man had him pinned and fighting while holding his breath was multiple times harder than while breathing. 

The man started throwing punches into Malcolm’s stomach with one hand, while the other held the cloth and pressed his head painfully against the wall. The hits left him without oxygen, causing him to gasp in the poisoned air. 

His vision blurred and the world spun. There was a slight ringing in his ear, his legs became numb, making it harder for him to stay vertical in the strangers grip.

The man released his body, but left the cloth placed over his nose. Malcolm slid down the wall sluggishly. His eyes became too heavy and slowly fluttered close.

Nothingness surrounded him.

  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
Cold. 

That was the first thing Malcolm felt as his consciousness returned. 

Then he heard some running water and a person humming a tune. 

It took an odd amount of effort to get his eyes to open, but once they did, they were met with a blinding light that forced them back closed. The shock made him groan. Going to move his arm he found he couldn’t. He tried the other, but it was the same result. He could move his hands, but he was bound by the wrists. 

“Great you’re waking up, a few more minutes, and we can get started.” 

Metal hitting metal echoed throughout the room. Fear ran through Malcolm, his head was getting clearer and so was his understanding of the situation. 

He had been kidnapped. The cold was from him laying in just his briefs, strapped down to a metal table. The blinding light was an overhead medical lamp. He could only assume the sounds the man was making was him preparing medical equipment.

Malcolm succeeded in opening his eyes the second time. He turned his head to the right where he had heard the man. It was the guy who ran into the door. There were medical supplies all around the room, several monitors and machines lined the walls. They were in a homemade hospital room, in what looked like a basement. 

He tipped his chin down examining his body. Where he had spilled the hot coffee on himself, there were angry red splotches all across his chest and upper arm.

“Okay I think you are conscious enough, let's get started.” The man snapped on a pair of gloves and approached the side of Malcolm’s head.

“Who are you, why are you doing this?” Malcolm asked, attempting to keep his fear at bay.

“You can call me Nathan, not like it will matter soon. You deserve this, you claim to be some big hero, but at the end of the day you are still your father's son. You’re a killer.” Nathan accused, from somewhere behind his head, out of view.

“You know who I am?”

“Of course I do! You’re Malcolm Whitly aka the NYPD profiler Malcolm Bright. I’m who you are trying to profile!” Nathan explained.

The whole thing made sense, he had completely forgotten about the case he had been working on in his fear of losing his own life. 

There had been three bodies found so far. They all had damage on the inside and outside of their throat. There were puncture wounds that inferred that they had been injected with something or set up to an IV. Each body had the word FEAR carved into them somewhere on their body. All of them had varying different injuries, but they all had the same cause of death, suffocation.

It was all about to happen to Malcolm if his team didn’t realize he was missing and find him quickly. Nathan grabbed Malcolm’s forehead, holding it down, as he placed a strap tightly over it, securing his head in place.

“Why did you kill those people?” Malcolm asked.

“Have you ever experienced something so painful and scary, but there is absolutely nothing you can do about it. You have no control, not even the ability to choose when you breathe. Like a living nightmare.”

“N-No I can’t say I have, not to that extent.” He went to shake his head only to find he couldn’t.

“There is something so pleasurable about watching someone's life be in your hands. Their every breath is decided by you. To watch as their body fights, to see the pain in their face. The first person I did it to was just a test run, to see if I could actually do it. The last two were the same as you, claiming to be heroes, yet they are just another bad guy.” He clicked his tongue. “Anyways, enough of the life long lecture. It’s time for the fun part. Now you're gonna want to resist, gag, maybe even vomit, but for your own sake I suggest you just let it happen. Or don’t, it will just be more enjoyable for me.”

Malcolm heard a leather chair squeak as the man sat down by the crown of his head. Nathan placed an oxygen mask over his mouth, securing it in place. Rolling the chair over to Malcolm’s left hand, he clipped a pulse ox onto his pointer finger and inserted an IV into the crook of his arm.

“I’m going to inject you with a muscle relaxer, the first time I did this I didn’t use it and let's just say it was pretty much impossible.” 

Malcolm knew at this point, what was happening. Nathan was going to intubate him while he was still conscious. He had been intubated before, but not while awake.

Nathan injected the muscle relaxer into the IV, then rolled back to the top of Malcolm’s head. 

“I want you to take a few deep breaths of that oxygen for me. It’s all you're going to get until I get a bag on.”   
Malcolm wanted to fight back, but Nathan was right that would only make it worse, plus this wasn’t the part that was going to kill him. He just prayed Gil would be able to find where the man had taken him. 

He took several deep breaths, closing his eyes, hoping it would make it easier. The man placed his finger under Malcolm’s chin, tipping his head back. 

“Open your mouth and relax your jaw.” Nathan instructed, removing the oxygen mask.

Malcolm complied, knowing that from this moment on every breath was precious. He jerked at a sudden invasive touch in the back of his throat. Instantly he gagged, but unlike the dentist, the object kept going. His eyes watered and his chest heaved as it tried to expel the unwanted intrusion.

Then Malcolm felt it, the tube had entered his trachea. He could no longer breathe, Malcolm hiccuped for air, but nothing came as the never ending tube scraped down his throat. After what felt like forever the movement stopped, but the feeling of the invasion stayed. 

The pressure in his head and chest built up from the lack of oxygen. Right when his vision started to fade, and he felt like he was going to pass out, air was forced into his lungs. 

Malcolm was overcome with relief and exhaustion. Somehow going through that took the same amount of energy as physically fighting the guy. A noisy machine started up. Startled, Malcolm opened his eyes, Nathan was above him taping down the tube to his cheek.

It was no longer painful, but it was definitely uncomfortable. Malcolm also never considered that once he was intubated he could no longer speak, meaning he lost his best chance of getting out of there.

“Now Malcolm, the thing that I find so stunning about you is your scars. I want to work with those. You have the ones on your wrists, they are faded and from the past, whereas this scar here on your abdomen is fairly new. I think I’m going to add some new ones to your collection, along with bringing out your old ones.”

Malcolm kept his eyes on the ceiling, the less he saw the better. It was oddly strange not having to be in control of breathing. He wondered what would happen when the pain got bad and the panic set in. Would he be able to get enough oxygen. 

“I’m going to unstrap your wrists, but I swear if you move an inch, I will stab you in every artery you have and watch you bleed out.” Nathan threatened. He undid the buckle on Malcolm’s left wrist, giving it a rough rub, letting his blood run back into his finger tips. 

The first sting came and went, with Malcolm’s high pain tolerance and it not being the first time his wrists were cut, it didn’t hurt much. Nathan went slow and precise, making several more marks. Malcolm only winced when his wounded wrist was firmly gripped and brought up over his face, so he could see it. Blood dripped down onto his cheek causing him to flinch. The cuts were deep enough to scar, but not enough for him to bleed out within minutes.

“See these. You are no hero, you’re weak and pathetic just like the rest of us. If anything, you're weaker. You are so sad that you have to hurt yourself, but who is going to save you?” He taunted. “You're just a scared little boy who never grew out of his fear of becoming your father.”

Several more drops fell before Nathan returned Malcolm’s arm to his side. 

“What I am about to do will be a reminder of that, to you for the rest of your life. After you pass, and they find your corpse, your loved ones will see it too.” 

Nathan moved around to Malcolm’s right bicep. Malcolm’s nerves came back when he heard rustling somewhere from out of sight. Before long an abrupt intense pain shook through his body, an obscured attempt of a scream came out of him, he started to panic more when no sound came, and he felt he couldn’t breathe. 

The machine was still working, but it wasn’t enough. The pain had subsided, but it was still present, the smell of burning flesh filled the room. He had been branded. His heart and head pounded in unison, faster than the air in his lungs supported. 

Bangs from above the room they were in, startled both of them. 

_“NYPD WE ARE COMING IN!!”_

Gil.

Malcolm took that as his shot. Grabbing Nathan’s tie, he pulled down as hard as he could. He just needed to keep him distracted long enough for the team to get down there.

Unbeknownst to Malcolm, Nathan still had the scalpel in at hand. The man stabbed it into the scar where Watkins had previously done the same. Malcolm continued to be short of oxygen as his fear and adrenaline spiked, yet his breathing stayed the same. He was gradually suffocating.

The door to the basement was flung open with a bang.

“NYPD PUT YOUR HANDS UP!” JT’s yell filled the small space.

Nathan stepped back, but kept the blade in hand, showing no sign of surrender.

Malcolm needed the tube out, his vision was darkening around the edges and his ears rang for the second time that day. Using his free arm, he reached up to the tube in his mouth

“MALCOLM DON’T!!” He heard Gil yell, but Gil didn’t understand that Malcolm needed more air and fast.

Malcolm pulled hard and fast. The tube came free with a scream, shocking the whole room giving Dani the chance to disarm Nathan.

Malcolm gasped and choked, as his mouth filled with spit and bile. His head still strapped down, making it impossible to get the fluids out. He still couldn’t breathe properly as he continued choking. 

Gil appeared at his side, hands going straight to the buckle at his head. The moment Gil threw the strap aside Malcolm turned his head, spitting out what he could. Gil moved onto the rest of his body right as JT joined them grabbing a towel and pressing it onto the stab wound. 

Malcolm groaned through his gasps for air. Free of all the restraint, Malcolm flung himself off the table, falling to the floor.

“What the?” JT marveled. 

On his hands and knees Malcolm retched out a mix of blood, vomit and spit, several times before collapsing onto his left side. Gil and JT were with him again. JT back at his abdomen while Gil held pressure to his wrist and stroked his head.

Continuing to breathe heavily, Malcolm looked up at his bicep, curious as to what was permanently burned on his skin. Sure enough in angry red and black burnt skin, was the word FEAR. He dropped his head in defeat. His throat was on fire and every swallow, caused him immense pain.

Malcolm tried to speak to Gil, but found he couldn’t. Gil continued to hush him and told him everything would be okay.

Soon the medics came rushing in. They bandaged the stab wound and wrapped up his wrist. He refused the oxygen mask, traumatized by the time already spent with air being forced into his lung. But when the medics saw how bad his oxygen levels were, they convinced him it was necessary. 

Once loaded onto the stretcher and into the ambulance, exhaustion and blood loss took over. He closed his eyes and focused on the feeling of his hand in Gil’s. It was steady and warm, a contrast to his cold shaky one. It took only a few seconds before he was out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Beep Beep Beep Beep_

The steady sound lured him from his unconsciousness. Muted chatter came from around him, becoming clearer by the second. Taking his time, he gradually worked up the energy to open his eyes. Malcolm was relieved to see his mother and Gil, standing at the foot of his bed, having a hushed conversation.

“Gi—” Malcolm attempted to call out, but found his throat dry and very uncomfortable. 

Both their heads turned to him, they basically ran to his side.

“Shhh Malcolm, don’t try to speak. The doctor said you did quite a bit of damage to your throat, it’s at risk of infection right now, so just take it easy.” His mother told him, while she stroked the side of his face.

Malcolm gave a slight nod.

“Hey Jess, I need to talk to Malcolm for a second. Can you go let the doctor know he is awake?” Gil asked, placing a hand on Jessica’s back.

“Yes of course, just don’t lose him again this time please.” Jessica replied, turning to leave the room.

The door clicked close.

Gil grabbed a notepad and pen, placing them in Malcolm’s lap.

“How are you feeling, kid? Any pain?” 

_I am fine._ Malcolm scribbled down on the paper.

“Malcolm.” Gil sighed. “We both know that’s not true. Now I have to ask, those cuts on your wrist. Did you do that?” He asked solemnly.

Malcolm frantically shook his head, eyes going back down to the pad he wrote out his explanation.

_Nathan was working off of fear. He used my scars as a way to do that. He reopened all my wounds, literally and Metaphorically. I haven’t hurt myself in months. I promise._

“Good, Jessica doesn’t know. The doctor gave me a run down and I told your mother what she needed to know. I will confirm with the doctor it wasn’t self-inflicted. Honestly though are you in any pain?”

_A little, but nothing to stress about._

Jessica came back with the doctor behind her.

“Good evening Mr. Bright, I am Dr. Santiago. How are you feeling? I hear you had quite the intubation and extubation.” The doctor greeted him.

Malcolm smiled with a nod. Flipping his page of notes over, he started a new page. He explained everything from being intubated without any sedation, to ripping the tube out himself because he couldn’t breathe.

The doctor let him know he tore up the inside of his trachea pretty good, so the risk of infection was higher than he would like. Everything else was doing good and healing, they had restitched his stab wound and his wrist was all cleaned up. He was recommended no speaking for a few days and then very little for the next two weeks. Dr. Santiago informed him only liquids for forty-eight hours, while he was in the hospital and only soft food for the rest of the week, or however long Malcolm felt it was necessary. 

Dr. Santiago said his farewell, leaving the room.

Gil excused himself, following the doctor out.

Jessica took a seat at his bedside, telling Malcolm all about the dinner she was missing. Not being able to speak meant he wasn’t able to interrupt and talk about something else. So he sat and politely listened, waiting for Gil to return.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been a week since Malcolm had been discharged from the hospital, and he was past stir crazy, from the time spent in his loft. He decided it was a good time to give the team a visit and get them the food that they never ended up receiving.

Exactly at noon he walked through the precinct doors, with a tray of cups and a bag of food in hand. Malcolm headed straight for the conference room. This time he knocked and waited for a reply, like Gil had asked him to. 

_“Come in!”_ He heard Gil shout from inside.   
  
Malcolm opened the door with a big smile, as his team's faces filled with shock.

“I got food!” He croaked.

“Bright aren't you supposed to be home and resting.” Dani cocked her head to the side.

“Yes, but I kinda owe you guys and I got bored.” He said roughly.

“Well I’m not complaining, I’m starving! What did you bring us?” JT exclaimed.

Malcolm laughed, setting down the food on the table, handing each of them their orders.

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the intubation square of my Bad Things Happen Bingo Card. I hope everyone enjoyed it. Feel free to comment and leave a kudo. I always appreciate it. Have a good day ya'll and stay safe and healthy in these crazy times. Love You - Mac


End file.
